


Still

by Tex



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-22
Updated: 2010-05-22
Packaged: 2017-10-09 15:53:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tex/pseuds/Tex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John figures it out; he just needed to be still for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Lamardeuse and Crysothemis for beta and hand holding duty.

John sprawls on his back, a corner of the sheet covering his happily spent dick. He feels like he's been hit by a Wraith stunner, except it's more like a Rodney stunner because instead of being numb, he's immobile with pleasure, heavy with bliss. There's not a spot on his body (including a couple places not visible to the naked eye) that Rodney hasn't teased, kissed, rubbed against and thoroughly worked over and John can barely move.

It's mostly why John let Rodney get in the shower first and why, even now that he's clean, he can't summon the energy to put his clothes on and go back to his quarters. In fact, it's not until he hears Rodney's voice that John realizes he's been dozing.

"John. Look at this."

John blinks and turns his head without raising it off the pillow. Rodney's standing next to the bed dressed in just his boxers and a blue-gray button down shirt with dark ugly buttons.

"I found this in the back of one of my drawers."

Interrupting his post-coital happy-time to rise up on his elbows, John makes a face. "Well, why don't you go put it back there?" If it's not the most unflattering shirt he's ever seen, it's definitely in the top three.

"No, I wanted to show you. It's too big now. Can you believe it? It's _huge_."

It's not huge, not really. In fact, it's a little tight across Rodney's shoulders and around his arms. The rest of it does kind of just hang there but beyond the offense to John's kind of awesome sense of fashion, he's not sure what Rodney's trying to show him.

Rodney does a 180, giving him all angles. "I brought it with me from Earth but I only wore it once or twice. I forgot all about it."

The shirt almost covers Rodney's ass. Almost. John eyes it as it goes past. "Mmm, probably a good idea," John says distractedly.

"You may not believe this, but I went through a period where I struggled with my weight. When I landed in Antarctica, I was not in the best physical shape. I'd just spent 15 of the darkest months of my life in Russia and well, let's just say that I indulged myself once I got back."

While he's talking, Rodney crosses his arms over his chest and John kind of misses the point he's making because the sleeves of the shirt pull taut around Rodney's biceps and yeah, John likes that a lot.

"Hey. Are you even listening to me?"

"Not really."

"Well, for – "

"Why don't you take that off and lay down with me a while?"

He knows the moment that Rodney's synapses go on overload and John fights a grin. It takes some doing to get Rodney off task and John's a little smug about the fact that he seems to have a knack for it. Sometimes when he's not naked, even.

Rodney gets out of the shirt and John slides over to make room for him. Rodney stretches out his back next to him, groaning a little as he settles. In Rodney's new, wider bed, there's just enough space for them to manage, shoulder to shoulder. Rodney's arm is warm against John's and Rodney's thigh is just hairy enough to make a little noise when it rubs against John's.

John looks up at the ceiling, breathes in and out and Rodney does, too. Rodney's a little noisier than John – his nose makes a soft whistling sound that Rodney always blames on his deviated septum.

And it's the kind of thing that used to annoy the crap out of John. He once broke up with someone because his jaw clicked when he chewed. But this is Rodney – the same guy who saves his life at least once a month and who touches him with such generous passion. John doesn't care about shit like that anymore.

"John? Don't take this the wrong way, but why are you still here? Usually, you're up and out already."

There's a trace of – _something_ – in Rodney's voice. It's like hesitancy or caution and John freezes for a second when it occurs to him that he's heard that tone before. It's always after they've been together, after they've wrung every drop of energy from their bodies and are sprawled across the bed. And the more intense the sex, the more Rodney seems to back off after, as if he's not sure of John. As if they're fuck buddies and nothing more.

And, okay, maybe it started out that way. It was John who went to Rodney the first time, after their encounter with the nightmare inducing alien crystal. Being in Rodney's head had been wildly intimate in a fucked up kind of way and John saw sex as a natural progression.

Just an idea, John had said, only a hand job, a chance for two guys to help each other out and Rodney had blinked and stammered his agreement. They'd stood pressed together against Rodney's door, hands in each other's pants, using rough, efficient strokes meant to accomplish a task quickly. It'd been awkward and embarrassing and over in the blink of an eye. They'd spent the next few days hardly looking at each other and John was sure he'd screwed things up for good.

But he couldn't stop thinking about what Rodney looked like that first time – eyes closed, face shiny-damp and flushed pink – and what Rodney sounded like – quiet little groans against the side of John's neck. So John went to Rodney a second time. This time, Rodney manhandled John over to his bed and they rubbed off on each other like hormone-fueled teenagers. John went back to his quarters that night on rubbery legs and the next day, they met at breakfast, exchanged goofy smiles and everything went back to normal.

So over the last few months, John's heard that carefully neutral tone many times, but tonight is the first time it causes something to flare like a super nova in his chest. Maybe because of the way that Rodney kissed him tonight, all slow, breathless hunger. Maybe because of the way Rodney showed himself off in that awful shirt. Or maybe it's the way John feels when he looks across the control room and sees Rodney, the hot rush of recognition, of _belonging_ . Whatever the cause, John can't move for another reason now.

Rodney shifts up and leans over him, his blue eyes curious. "Hey. You okay?"

John puts his hand on Rodney's neck and pulls him down, kissing him hard, giving back, giving _everything._ In this, as always, Rodney responds without holding back and John shivers beneath him, thinking how stupid he's been not to see it, not to recognize what was right there in front of him the whole time. Because they were never just fuck buddies, not even the first time.

Rodney looks down at him after a while and John's voice is a little gravelly when he's able to speak. "Okay if I stay?"

Rodney looks surprised for just a second. Then, he gives a John a staggeringly sweet smile. "Really? Well, um. That would be – "

John frowns, when it's all he can do to keep from grinning "Is that a yes?"

Rodney rolls his eyes. "Yes, you idiot, it's a yes."

"Good. Be a pal and get the lights, then, huh?"

Muttering under his breath about pampered Air Force pilots, Rodney stretches out for the light control and plunges the room into darkness. He throws the covers over them both and John wraps his arms around Rodney's warm, solid body and decides it's time to show Rodney that he gets it now. He just needed to be still for while.

 


End file.
